Just Dance
by sweet-and-simple
Summary: I feared for my life... and then I feared for my virginity...  To think that Vongola had only wanted us to dance once.


"No."

"Reborn…" Vongola sighs and rubs his temples. "I am not even asking you anymore; _do it_."

I can not help but feel pride and fear for Vongola; to think that, 10 years ago, he could not even see himself as Vongola, much less _dream_ of ordering about the hitman.

"Vongola," I step forward, swaying a hand and offering Vongola a smile. "You don't have to do this. I am just as well without the stingy bastard."

"Tsch, whatever he says, no good Tsuna." I watch Reborn's back as he goes to leave.

"One dance!" Vongola is standing now, hands slammed on his desk surface. I blink and watch this strange show of desperation. "Just one, and then you can go if you still don't want to do it."

Reborn pauses and – after a moment of consideration – comes back into the room.

Excuse me if I flinch a bit and retreat a step when the hitman extends a hand to me; I am usually the one who dares the personal bubble of Reborn and is usually either ignored or abused, neither such a great reward for the feat.

His dark, storm gray eyes narrow on me and his lips thin. "Don't waste my time, you dumb cow. Let's just get this over with; I actually have things to do." Ouch, Reborn honestly has never cared for me, has he?

Perhaps I am a little shaky when I reach out and take his hand, but I do expect him to suddenly grip it until the bones in my hand breaks or twist my arm behind my back. His hand swallows mine; suddenly, I feel pitifully small.

In the background, I hear music; something soft and slow and somewhat sad. I guess Vongola turned the radio on.

I look up from our hands into Reborn's face and have to look away again; he looks ready to murder me. He puts his other hand on my waist and I put mine on his shoulder; it doesn't bother me so much that I am taking the feminine role in the dance; all that bothers me is that he is _hurting_ me. There is going to be a bruise on my hip once this dance is done.

"Now, begin!" Vongola sounds happier, at least. That makes me happier because I would always do anything for Vongola.

He brings his left foot forward; I bring mine back and slide gracefully a half-circle, but keeping my upper body straight from his. I see the surprise tilt his lips down and that makes me even happier than making Vongola happy. I guess I was supposed to have 'two left feet' as the saying goes.

He follows me and then steals the lead right back; he performs the first half-box (forward, side, together), forcing me into the second half-box (backwards, side, together) and then spins me out from his body with a flick of his wrist. Even before my twirl is complete, he goes to drag me back, as if hoping to catch me off guard, but I catch myself in a heel pull, dragging my feet together as I land against his chest.

The music begins to take a beat and a pace to it, like anger.

I arch up against Reborn and then mock push him away. I free spin and then retreat three graceful steps; he can do nothing but follow and catch me, one hand to my waist, the other to my wrist as he mock snaps my body back against his, like an enraged lover.

_Up, louder, harder, _the beat and pace to the music goes and our dance goes with it; I don't even know _what_ we are dancing anymore, only that what we are doing is a living, breathing, song captured in two physical bodies.

He bends me in half, his lips at my throat as the music becomes more passionate than hateful. I bring my arms up, slowly, elegantly, and around his neck as I am held inches from the ground by one arm around my waist. I sway my upper body and hook one leg against his thigh; he wrenches me upward again – passion too great to be gentle, too _hot_ to be slow – and dragged me forward as he dances back, dragging one foot behind me, my other leg still curved around Reborn's thigh.

We stop, do box steps, spin a circle, and press into each other. The music reaches a crescendo and – "Ah!" – we grind hips before turning back to chest. My arms are crossed over my breast as he holds both from behind me; I tilt my head back and to the side, not realizing what I was asking for but there is a haze to my thoughts and a thrum in my body. We aren't even ballroom dancing anymore, but swaying our hips together, making a step to one side and then another to a different side.

I am kissing him just as the song ends, feeling the softness of his severe lips, tasking the smoke of his clove cigarettes and the vanilla of the espressos he enjoys so much. He turns me back into his chest and now I wrap my arms around his shoulders and stand on the tips of my toes to try and (in a ditch attempt) one up him.

He palms my ass and lifts me off of the ground; now I can feel the hard length of him between my legs and I can not help but gasp into his mouth.

… What had we been doing? I don't know, and, honestly, I don't care. Maybe we had been having a war, or maybe we had been arguing (one and the same with warring on most occasions); I don't care.

Just… keep touching me, Reborn. Don't stop touching me. I want his hands to stay on me, to keep their bruising grip on me; and yet we keep spinning. The song is over, but we are still dancing, even with my feet off of the ground. And then – "Mmmph!" – he catches me against a wall, grinding up as I grind down. I grab his fedora in one hand and run my other through the revealed raven-wing black spikes.

Somewhere – I really don't want to think about it – comes a nervous cough. Someone says something, but I can't hear over my own heartbeat. Just in case he can, I grab onto the back of his head and tighten one arm around his shoulders to try and stop any attempt to look away.

Regardless, his lips leave mine. I pant and hope that they return, I actually search for them, my eyes closed. I miss his lips, but I can taste his skin; his aftershave is minty.

"Waah!" He drops me to the ground, startling me out of whatever mind I had just been in. The peace disappears and I glare up at him. That stingy bastard, he _would_ just drop me.

"That was your one dance, no good Tsuna. You better have caught it on camera, because it is not happening again." My heart hurts now; really? Just that one dance and that one kiss and now everything is back to normal?

"_Yare, yare_, I thought you were enjoying your- Gah!" My world turns upside down and, suddenly, his shoulder is digging into my belly. I blink, but now I am just looking down towards the ground.

"Shut up, you dumb cow." I yelp as a hand gropes my ass. "You've given me a problem, and now you have to fix it."

"I did _not_ have to know that, Reborn!" Looking up, Tsuna is as red as a cherry in the face, his cheeks puffed out like an angry hamster. He is almost too cute when he is angry.

"You didn't have to listen." And so, Reborn leaves with me over his shoulder like his barbaric prize. "And you don't have to listen to what will happen next." Suddenly, I fear for my virginity.

I fear for it dearly.


End file.
